


Pull

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [8]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bigotry & Prejudice, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1398445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Whatever happens, I don't want it to come between us," Thor tells Sif, and she smiles.</p><p>But it doesn't feel real.</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Reach and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loki gets a little toppy; Thor's sure what to make of it, but he- he shouldn't be.
> 
> Sif has big plans.

Thor laughs more than a little breathlessly. If only he had a dollar for every time he's had this exact same thought - _this should not turn me on nearly as much as it does_ \- he would be richer than Odin.

It's been almost two months since Loki last added - unfortunately, yes, but there you have it - to what Thor now tries to think of as _his body art_. While the cuts themselves are long since healed, and they didn't really scar all that heavily compared to the ones from the whole broken glass debacle, the runes are still plainly visible.

That, and he can feel them under his fingers when he runs his hands lightly - or not so lightly - over the pale, thin skin on the underside of his brother’s forearm.

Every time he does that, every time he feels the raised lines skip under his fingertips? Well, that would be another dollar.

And this? Sprawling here naked on the bed, propped up on his elbows, watching Loki - equally naked, crouched catlike between his legs, one slender arm extended and ass in the air... half-lidded eyes fixed on his with a sultry look hot enough to melt iron - fucking _lick_ the scars, tracing over them ever so slowly with that pointy pink tongue? Just like - _ohhhhhh, fuuuuuck_ \- that?

_Oh, god._ There are not enough dollars in the world.

Thor groans, voice low and broken, as Loki's tongue continues on to trace the letters of his name - T-H-O-R, mid-forearm to wrist - and then trails across the splayed-fingered hollow of the same palm. Loki closes his lips around two of his own long fingers, cheeks hollowed and mouth working, and Thor can't watch anymore - it's too much, and too wrong, and he's going to fucking explode.

Loki pulls his hand free with a wet slurp. "You like that, don't you." Thor, head back on the pillow and eyes shut tight, can still hear the smile in his brother's voice. "You want not to - you want to be above _things like that_ \- but you aren't, are you? Knowing your name is carved into my flesh and watching me _make love to it_ just drives. you. wild," Loki adds, crawling forward and nipping his way up Thor's inner thigh between words.

" _Fuck,_ Loki... stop," Thor rasps, jerking and shuddering. "I can't- I can't-." He can't even form a coherent thought, let alone express it.

"Oh, I think you can," Loki challenges quietly, laughing, breath hot against Thor's sack. "I think you _like it all the more_ because you know you shouldn't."

Loki sucks one of Thor's balls into his mouth, working it like he'd done his own fingers, and Thor can't help but cry out. "Stop," he tries again, weakly, but he knows he doesn't mean it and Loki flat-out ignores him anyway.

"You like knowing that you _own_ me," Loki volunteers as he frees that ball, licking and nuzzling and nipping his way around briefly before taking on its brother.

In the brief nearly lucid stretch the ball-swap allows him, all Thor can think is: _Annnnnd yet another dollar._ Because Loki shouldn't be right, but he is. And how.

Thor is blissfully spared any further guilty reflection - any reflection at all, for that matter - by the warm, sloppy progress of Loki's mouth up the shaft of his cock. "Too- too soon," he manages to stammer out as his brother pulls out all the stops.

If he comes he's going to have to think again.

And as little as he knows just now, he’s pretty fucking certain thinking again would be a bad thing.

Loki pops off, laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I _too_ good at this?"

Despite the smart-ass comment, his brother isn't sounding nearly as _composed_ as he did a few moments ago.

Good; it's about damned time.

"Too cocky about it, you mean," Thor jests, brain unfuzzing the slightest bit. "Ouch," he huffs as Loki nips his cock a little too sharply. "I only- I meant I won't last like that."

"And tonight you want to." Just that suddenly Loki isn't laughing anymore; he sounds as hot and bothered as Thor feels (which might be another dollar if he thinks about it too hard... so he doesn't). "Okay. Slow it is, then," his brother confirms, planting a loud, sloppy kiss on the head of Thor's cock. "Do you want to finish in my mouth, when the time comes," he asks, panting a little, "or can I ride you?"

Without waiting for an answer Loki takes Thor into his mouth again, hot wetness everywhere. "Ride," Thor just manages to gut out at the start of a low moan.

His brother smoothly subs a cool hand in for his mouth. "Then you, my dear, have a job to do," he warns, voice as gravelly as Thor’s now. "Here," he cautions, kneeling partway up, "watch your face." And with that he flips around, up and over, until he's basically straddling Thor's shoulders with his feet tucked neatly under the pillow.

Once Loki reorients himself and gives his full attention back to the task at hand, licking and pumping and sucking noisily, Thor spreads his brother's flushed buttocks with trembling hands and puts his own tongue to work.

This time it's Loki who moans, throat vibrating perfectly around Thor’s cock.

_And that's another dollar. Maybe five, even._

~

"Look, before you ask,” – which he wasn’t going to do anyway, as he has literally no idea what she is talking about – “I'm planning to sit down and discuss this with Loki, too. I am. I promise. I just wanted to run it by you first." Sif has been antsy since they first sat down; it’s bad enough now that she almost reminds Thor of his brother back in the _off my meds and bouncing off the walls_ days.

Which is not a compliment, so he opts not to say it.

"That's fine," he assures her instead, hoping like crazy it actually _is_ fine because, so far, she hasn’t even hinted at what’s going on. "Whenever you're ready,” he prods when she still doesn’t get started on her own, “I'm all ears."

Sif takes an impressive gulp of her coffee - which seriously seems like last thing she needs right now - and chases that with three or four deep breaths. "Right, then," she starts off and then dissolves, like he's not sure he’s ever seen her do before, into a fit of high-pitched, nervous-sounding giggles. "I'm sorry. Oh god, I'm turning into Jane, aren't I? Shit. I don't know why this is so difficult."

Thor laughs. "Because that's how life goes, Sif," he assures her, carefully not letting himself get wound up in response to the way she’s acting. "I mean, look at mine."

She abruptly stops smiling. "Well, that's the crux of my problem," she explains. When he makes his best puzzled face - which is not a huge stretch, because he _is_ puzzled; very much so even – she only shrugs. "Remember my old boss? From the hospice, I mean… the one I loved to death?"

"She moved out of the state," he confirms, nodding. Sif had been heartbroken, far worse than she'd been when the two of them had broken things off. His ego still smarts a little, now that you mention it. She doesn’t need to know that though. "Wait! Wait, I’ve got it," he exclaims, in no small part to cover his own absolutely pointless gut reaction, "she’s back in town and you're going to have her baby!" He grins as broadly and stupidly as he can.

There, now Sif is smiling again. That’s better. "Not exactly," she clarifies, eyes sparkling and earlier stress just that quickly forgotten from the looks of it. "She's been given a huge federal grant to start a statewide hospice program, based out of the town where she lives now.” She pauses for another deep breath. “And she called me this morning, completely out of the blue.” Sif reaches out to clasp Thor’s forearm. “She wants me to come out there and serve as her director of medical operations!"

Okay, that’s genuinely good news. "That's fantastic," he hurries to tell her. It is! It's all she's ever wanted. "Congratulations! You must be-."

"Wait wait wait," she cuts in, waving her hands at him to stop. "There's more. The program includes a tuition benefit - I'll spare you the details, but they will pay for my PhD!" But then she stops again, before he has time to react, and all the animated excitement drains away.

"So, what's the problem," he asks, because it's clear she thinks there is one.

"That's sweet of you," she says, studying his face carefully, "but you don't have to bullshit me."

_What?!_ "Huh? I'm not. I think it's great. It sounds perfect. I know you’ve wanted this forever." She’s frowning, more and more, and he just isn’t getting why.

"Um, Thor," she starts in slowly, like she’s always done when he’s being dense, "you do get it that I'd be _leaving_ , right?"

Well, yes and no. Obviously it’s not rocket science, and he would certainly have gotten there, but he hadn't yet quite followed that particular road on through to its end. He nods, but with a fair amount less enthusiasm. "No, I get that,” he tells her, feeling like he’s lying. “It's okay. Really. This is your big dream."

She sighs. "It’s not that simple, Thor. You and Loki are like my family. Well, better, even. I know you guys could still use my help. I- I would never go if it wasn't okay - more than okay - with both of you." She swipes at her eyes with a coffee-stained napkin. “I won’t sacrifice you two for this.”

Sif's right. They are like family. The good kind. It will suck for a while, and it will put the whole Loki Burden squarely on Thor's shoulders. Still, he owes her this much, after everything she’s done. If it wasn’t for her Loki would be dead.

He starts to remind her of that very, very important fact but she waves him silent. "No, don’t. Maybe you should think about it a while before you give me your verdict," she says, and her voice sounds terribly sad. Far sadder than she should be. "Look, I know you want the best for all of us but sometimes you don't think things all the way through."

That's true, unfortunately. It’s also reasonable, Thor knows, and he should take her up on the offer even if he doesn't want to. "Fair enough," he tells her at last, nodding encouragingly. "How soon do you have to let her know?"

Sif bucks up; he knows she hates to cry; especially in front of people. "I told her I would give her an answer by the end of the month." She tries another game smile and fails. "I wouldn't be leaving for three or four months, though."

Good, that gives them some time.

"Whatever happens, I don't want it to come between us," he tells her, and she smiles.

But it doesn't feel real.

The rest of the meal, they stick to pointless small talk because it’s safer. Easier. As he gets up to leave, though, Thor can’t quite let it be. “Do you want me to brief Loki, or do you want to tell him yourself?”

“I’ll do it,” she says. “I’ll bring dinner, and you can go hide in the bathroom or something.”

They share a laugh at that.

Whatever happens, he’s going to fucking miss her. He and Loki both will, for sure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Thor (mostly Thor) muck(s) up an important conversation.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _NOTE: I added the bigotry/prejudice tag for homophobic slurs_

"My therapist at day treatment says we should see a couples counselor," Loki snaps like he's trying to pick a fight. "Before I agree to run off to west buttfuck with you."

"It's not west buttfuck," Thor points out, as good-naturedly as he can. Loki has been edgy all week, and dodging a battle may well take quite a bit of extra effort. "It's a city nearly the size of this one." Because he’s trying his best not to fight, Thor doesn't add _besides, it will be fun_ or _you're the one always wanting a fresh start_ or any of the other things he often catches himself thinking; he just doesn't want to go there.

The therapist's suggestion is probably a good one. Thor's own guy has been giving lots of guidance, ever since Sif's Big Announcement and the even bigger revelation - _you know, you guys could move too; get away from Odin and everything_ \- that followed, but there's probably a finite limit to how much you can do when you're really only getting half of the story.

~

Getting there - coming to _that_ realization - has not been easy.

Thor has always prided himself in being able to speak for Loki, on Loki's behalf, whenever his brother wasn't able to speak for himself; when Loki was inpatient, or incarcerated, or- or missing. Or even just _out of it_ ; sick or crazy or high or whatever. He’s done it so frequently over the years, sometimes with Loki's blessing and other times with nothing more to go on than his own instincts, that he's come to deeply believe in his own self-proclaimed infallible ability to _channel Loki whenever necessary._

 _You can certainly speak up on behalf of your brother,_ his therapist had corrected, _but you can't ever truly speak for him. You can never really be certain you are saying, or even that you know, what he would have said... or even wanted said,_ the social worker had gone on to clarify. _Ultimately, even if you actually are looking out for Loki’s best interests, you’re really speaking solely for yourself._

It's a subtle distinction, one Thor understands intellectually now but is still struggling to really _get_. Still, he's able to admit it exists, and that on its own is progress.

~

"Okay," Thor concedes when Loki finally gets his apparent fill of snarking about their potential new hometown, "we can try that. Does your therapist have anyone in mind?"

Loki looks a bit startled, as though his surprise at _winning_ is shorting out against his need to argue. "Yes," he finally says, "she does. She gave me the name of a guy who she claims is _really good with unusual situations._ " His exaggerated air quotes remind Thor unpleasantly of Odin.

And something about that just doesn’t work for him.

"Unusual," Thor asks. He means to laugh but it sounds more like scoffing and he can see Loki bristle.

"Well, there's not exactly a support group out there for _gay psychos catching for their big, gay, angry brothers,_ now," Loki responds, air-quoting again, laughing too but with a sharp little edge in his voice, "is there?"

Mentally side-stepping _big_ and _angry_ , Thor instead says - completely automatically, without thinking about it at all - "I'm not gay."

"Oh, excuuuuuse me," Loki offers with dramatically exaggerated self-depreciation, "I stand corrected: _big BI angry brothers._ You lawyers with your goddamned verbal precision."

Suddenly, Loki's condescending attitude is wearing awfully thin. "No, not that either," Thor says, quite decisively. "Not gay, not bi."

"Ummm, I'm fairly confident you've noticed that I _have this,_ " Loki taunts, grabbing his junk through his pyjama bottoms and shaking it at Thor, " _considering how often you've had your mouth around it._ " His eyes glint dangerously. "What, pray tell, _do_ you call it?"

"I don't," Thor huffs. He's not at all sure where this is headed but he knows damned well he won't be liking it. If he's going to be dragged there, it isn’t going to be without a fair amount of stubborn kicking and screaming.

"You _don't,_ " Loki repeats. His face is very pale, with two spots of color high on his sharp cheekbones. "You're fucking a _man_ , Thor. You've been fucking a man your entire adult life. What _else_ can you call it?"

The danger signs are all there but Thor plows right past them. Right through them, even, knocking them left and right. "I have _not_ ," he stresses. "I've been fucking you."

"Oh," Loki says after a long beat. His voice is tight and caustic. "So what am _I,_ then, _brother_ , in the cramped quarters inside your head? Am I a girl? Am I an animal? Am I a _monster?_ " He's practically screaming now. "Or am I just your goddamned _pity fuck_ , Thor?" Loki takes a long step closer, so he's almost in Thor's face. "Is that it? No one will fuck the poor little crazy faggot, so big brother Thor has to swallow down his pride and be the one who takes care of it?! Have I got the picture now? Is that it, brother?," Loki snarls, hands up and fisted in Thor’s shirt collar. " _IS IT??_ "

There is something raw and horribly painful in Loki’s face. It’s sickening, and that’s enough to break the sequence of events that would normally march inexorably on to the point where Thor can’t not hit his brother. This time, instead, he shakes his head and steps back, carefully prying Loki’s fingers loose and pushing the clawed hands gently down. “No, it isn’t,” he says as quietly as he can.

Loki rips both hands free of Thor’s grasp. “I hate you, you motherfucking hypocritical asshole,” he rages, leaning right back into Thor’s face, and then whirls and stomps off down the hall.

When he gets to the bedroom, Loki slams the door so hard the dishes in the kitchen cupboards rattle.

~

Thor stands in the empty living room, hands sweaty and chest heaving. It’s several minutes before he can even really think again.

And when he can, when he works his way back through their conversation in his head, he realizes what he said – as opposed to what he meant… although what exactly _that_ was- is, he still isn’t sure – and feels utterly and completely awful. _I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,_ he wants to run and tell his brother, but doing so – presuming Loki would condescend to speak to him in the first place, which is anything but guaranteed at this point – will just buy him a bitter (deservedly) _how DID you mean it, then, brother?_ and for that he has no answer.

When he finally has himself back under control, Thor pads carefully down the hall and puts an ear to the bedroom door. Loki is crying, great wracking sobs that hurt to hear. Thor knocks, softly at first and then a little louder in case he isn’t quite making himself heard over his brother’s weeping. “May I come in?”

There’s no answer; not even a break in the crying. Thor takes a deep breath and pushes the door slowly open.

The scene before him breaks his guilty, rotten heart.

Loki is curled in a wet ball on the floor – not even on the bed; he’s half on the little throw rug and half on the hardwood – flat-out bawling. Thor has not seen his brother cry like this in quite a while now, probably not since the day one of the other day treatment clients died, and it’s been far longer still since he himself was the proximate cause of the problem.

“Baby,” he tries, squatting down next to Loki and reaching out to gently touch the thin, shaking curve of his brother’s back, “I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Loki growls, jerking away from Thor’s fingers. “Leave me the fuck alone,” he adds, even though Thor hasn’t yet tried touching him a second time. “You’ll get _gay cooties._ ” With that Loki curls into an even tighter ball, inching away bit by tiny bit until he’s nearly wedged under the nightstand.

“You’re right, you know,” Thor offers, giving it another go. “I’m bi, obviously, and of course I realize you’re a guy. I don’t even know why I reacted the way I did.” He swallows loudly. They are long past due for this conversation, apparently, but this is _not_ the way they ever should have had it. “I need to be more honest about it, with you and with myself.”

Ironically, that bit about not knowing is kind of a lie – truthfully, now that he’s had a few minutes to cool off, Thor realizes pretty much what must have happened: He’s so used to hearing Odin’s voice in his head that he’s apparently taught himself to speak with it… as Loki clearly has as well – but the rest is as real and heartfelt as anything could possibly be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “May I please touch you?” He can’t just hover here, watching his brother cry like this, and do nothing.

Loki manages about half a shrug. “Suit yourself,” he grumbles, but he lets Thor run a hand softly up and down his spine - slowly, carefully, over and over – without offering further protest.

~

Thor pets his brother for a long time, neither of them trying to talk, until his own fingers tingle and buzz from the soft drag of Loki’s t-shirt.

He makes a mental note – in red mental ink, highlighted with bright mental highlighter – to call his therapist about this first thing in the morning.

And then he keeps petting, on and on and on, until Loki finally stops crying and lets Thor pull him close.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of this makes more sense to Thor's therapist than it does to Thor.

"You mentioned wishing that the evening's conversation had gone differently," the social worker reminds him, about the time he’s run out of steam and is just sitting there silent. "Can you tell me a little more about that?"

~

Thor's been able to get in to see his therapist today, semi-emergently, by agreeing to stop over during their mutual lunchtime. It's for the best anyway: While Loki'd eventually let Thor coax him into bed, and hadn't protested when his _big bi no-longer-angry brother_ had curled around him and pulled him into a tight spooning embrace, he'd been distant and vaguely hostile this morning... to the point Thor'd made himself late to work because he'd opted to stick around until after the car service had taken Loki off to day treatment. So, sneaking out smack in the middle of the morning (or afternoon, for that matter) somewhere wouldn't have been the smartest idea, probably.

Even when your father runs the show, certain appearances need to be upheld. At least some of the time, anyway.

He won't get quite his full fifty minutes in, but that's okay. It’s not like the money is a problem, and he’s more than capable of talking fast if he has to. No, today he will take what he's given, and try to like it.

Okay, maybe not that last bit.

~

Thor hasn't felt the need to wait at home with his brother in quite a while - Loki has been stable (for a given value of stable) and reasonably dependable, and Thor has been trying hard to afford him the chance to behave like a responsible adult - but Loki was acting so oddly today that it just seemed like the smartest of the options available.

Not that sticking around had won Thor any fans – his brother had been peeved, and had wasted no effort hiding it - but sometimes you have to sacrifice popularity in favor of doing the right thing.

That, and he just couldn’t help himself. He knows he fucked up; consequently, he's feeling more responsible than he probably even should be for whatever happens next, and he just really wasn't going to be even halfway comfortable all day if he’d left before Loki was safely off to the Land of Constant Supervision.

~

"Thor? What are you feeling," the therapist prompts, pulling him abruptly back to the present.

"Afraid," he says. "And stupid. I- I just wish I could see inside his head and know what he was thinking. Anyway, sorry, my mind wandered," he admits, belatedly trying to dodge that particular topic – his abrupt and probably unwarranted return to Loki-sitting - in favor of lesser evils. "What was your question?"

_Oh, right, the conversation;_ it comes back to him before his therapist even finishes asking a second time. _This is so uncomfortable_.

"Um-..." Thor still can't find a good way to get himself started. "Loki said I was gay, or – when I protested that – at least bi, and I couldn’t even be bothered to stop and think about it; I just flat-out told him he was wrong." Thor scrubs his face with one hand, anything not to have to look at the therapist. "So then he not-so-helpfully pointed out that I'd been having sex with a man for years and years… and- and- I said something awful," he says, all in a rush.

"Can you tell me what you told him," the therapist asks gently.

"I - I can't believe this came out of my mouth, I really can't - I said I hadn't been fucking a _man_ , I'd been fucking him. Um, sorry," he adds, yet again horribly embarrassed about (everything, the easiest part of which would be) his language.

The therapist waves it off. "Don't worry; I've heard that word before," he assures Thor, laughing softly. "I might even have used it once or twice myself. How did things go after that?”

Thor considers. “Not great, although I did okay with my temper all things considered.”

“Good for you,” his therapist says. “I’m so pleased with your progress there. May I ask you a question?"

Thor nods, even thought he’s feeling more than a little anxious about where the hell this could be going.

"In the privacy of your own thoughts, do you consider yourself straight," the therapist asks, tone really only mildly curious, like it’s nothing. He could just be asking Thor about today's dinner menu.

Thor has to really, really think about that one... and even then he ultimately comes up empty. "I'm not sure. It's not really something I ever think about." Until last night, at least, and then today; today he has thought of little else.

"And Loki? What do you consider him?"

_My wife, or maybe my husband,_ Thor thinks, out of nowhere. He flashes back to the staffer at Loki’s residential treatment facility - _his domestic partner; yes, I know_ \- and, before he can quite catch himself, full-on grins. Which is a little terrifying.

The social worker smiles, too, mouth quirking. "Yes?"

Thor wipes the grin off his face just as swiftly as it planted itself there. He certainly doesn't need to mention _that_ particular train of thought, of all things. "Nothing, nothing... I just remembered something funny. Um. Huh. Same thing, I guess: I never really thought about it."

"And does that strike you as at all odd?"

"Nope," Thor is quick to respond. Why would it?

"Fair enough. Even so, do you have any idea why you might never have thought about it," his therapist asks.

"Why _would_ I?? Why would I think about it, I mean. That's weird," Thor shoots back. He's starting to feel more than a little cornered.

Which makes very little sense.

"Thinking about one’s own sexual preferences is actually quite a common thing," the therapist counters mildly, "especially in younger adults, who may go through periods of guilt or uncertainty. And it’s not at all uncommon to consider the preferences of one's potential partners, as well."

"Huh. Okay. Still nope." Thor shakes his head firmly. He's really not comfortable discussing this. Or thinking about it, even. The whole topic repels him, far out of proportion to its- its blandness.

"You've mentioned before that your father is rather judgmental," the therapist offers, adjusting his slipping glasses and flipping back through a few pages of old notes. "That he is anti-gay and pretty derisive about the whole subject."

_That's_ certainly true. Thor nods, with feeling.

And then he remembers it; the realization to which he'd come last night after arguing with Loki.

Weird.

"This is kind of odd," he says, because it is, "but I realized pretty much the same thing yesterday evening. I've more or less internalized what Odin has always preached, if you will. That's not the weird part, though," he clarifies, because it isn't. "What's strange is that I somehow managed to completely forget I'd even thought about it before... until just now."

"Mm-hm." His therapist nods. "Actually, that's not so odd at all. From what you've told me, growing up anything but straight in every possible sense of the word," - the social worker pauses, studying Thor's face closely - "in Odin's household would have been very difficult. Our minds cope with difficult situations in any way they can, sometimes." He stops and consults his notes again. "I think it might be helpful if we change course a little here, if that's okay with you."

It absolutely is; Thor wastes exactly zero time saying so.

"What is it you're worried Loki may think now?"

Huh. That shouldn't be easier, but somehow it is. "That I only sleep with - um- well, you know what I mean –“ – awesome; now he can’t even talk like sex without acting like a teenager - “him because I feel like I have to."

Thor frowns; this whole idea - that his brother might still think this is one of his _obligations,_ his _brotherly duties_ \- leaves him feeling incredibly sad. "Loki says he's my _pity fuck._ " He refrains from apologizing for f-bombing this time.

"And when you are with him, in whatever way you'd like to choose as your private example, are you aroused?"

Thor chokes. What the fuck kind of question is _that?!_ So much for easier. "Why- what- I-," he splutters, unable to even get off the ground. He can feel his face flushing red and hot. He swallows.

_You're here to get help with things like this,_ he reminds himself sternly. _And Odin doesn't ever have to find out about it._ "Yes," he rasps, "if you must know." And then he stares intently at the wall.

But it's true, completely, embarrassing or not. Through all of it - the guilt, the anger, the betrayal, the confusion, the loss, the terror - he has never been anything but aroused when he's with Loki.

Or when he's thinking of Loki.

Like he's doing now, most inconveniently. Thor shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "I swear, my cock is like that Russian dude's dog. _Pavlov's_ " he corrects himself, aiming for humor and hitting square in the center of idiocy instead. He's painfully aware that's he's pretty much just babbling; even so, he feels completely powerless to put the brakes on his own mouth. "Ring that Loki bell and off it goes." He laughs and tugs at his pants, coloring all over again.

The therapist smiles, just a little. "I know this is very uncomfortable for you, Thor, but I assure you: sexual feelings really are both ubiquitous and completely normal," he assures. "They're just like any other feelings; neither right nor wrong, and they’re nothing to feel ashamed over. But you know what," he suggests, and Thor cringes. "You might try telling Loki how you feel, even if it seems really awkward at first. I bet he would find it reassuring."

"How so," Thor asks, stuck somewhere between honest confusion and abject denial. He's not sure what about _you live with an idiot_ Loki might possibly find pleasing.

"Well, if he's your _pity fuck,_ I'm the pope. Just saying," he adds with a shrug as Thor - _ohhhh, duh; got it now, thanks..._ \- snorts loudly.

"I love him," Thor insists, right out of nowhere. "He is the sexiest person I have ever seen".

The therapist smiles. "That? You might want to tell him that, too."

~

"I love you," Thor says firmly, the very instant his brother - looking well more than a little worn - comes through the doorway, "and I think you are the sexiest person I've ever seen."

"Really? Now?" Loki cocks a neat black eyebrow. "Not-so-fresh from ten hours of fun?"

"Yes," Thor tells his brother, nodding. "Now and always." He means it, too.

"Sentimental sap," Loki jabs, but he's almost smiling now. "Or are you just making sure you're still welcome in my pants?"

Well, okay, there's probably some of that too, but it's not the time to admit it. "My shrink says I should share more of what I'm thinking and feeling. The good stuff, I mean," Thor hurriedly clarifies as Loki smirks. "I probably say a bit too much of the bad stuff already."

Loki shrugs. "I was a jerk last night,"

That’s a lot lot lot closer to _sorry_ than his brother normally ventures. He'll take it. "Me too," he offers, magnanimously. "Shall we try for a better evening this time?"

At that, Loki manages a real, full-on smile. "We kind of have to; we’d be hard put to make ourselves a worse one."

Oh, they probably could, Thor's certain; they've found ample ways to do it before. But he opts to let that go. Loki's entitled to his own opinion, after all.

"What do you say we actually cook for a change," he suggests. His brother looks startled. Thor's kind of surprised, himself, to hear those words come out of his own mouth, but he's feeling more than a little domestic.

"I thought we were aiming for a _better_ evening," Loki teases, but he comes slowly over and lets Thor hug him close just the same.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plans, and the things that don't go according to one.

“I thought this was supposed to make things better,” Thor complains through a big bite of cheeseburger.

Sif laughs. “Well, it hasn’t improved your manners any; that much I can confirm for certain. Why, what’s up,” she asks after he doesn’t laugh at her teasing.

He wipes his mouth with a wadded paper napkin and then sighs. “I’m not sure. I guess I feel like we’re fighting more again – just when things had finally calmed down some – and I’m being asked to make a lot of compromises.” He drops the burger back onto his plate and tackles the accompanying sweet potato fries instead. “More than my fair share, it feels like. Sorry,” he offers, realizing belatedly he’s talking with his mouth full again.

She nods. “Family counseling – of any sort, and you’re kind of stuck doing two kinds at once, I suppose – tends to feel like that. It’s hard not to think of it as sides being taken.”

 _Especially when sides have been taken all your life,_ Thor thinks. “I guess I just didn’t expect that, since my regular therapy sessions have gone a lot better than I thought they would.” By _better_ he means _less painfully._

“Well, yeah, think about it this way,” Sif suggests, not unkindly. “Individual work is all about making things go as well for yourself as you can. Family work is about helping two or more people learn how to best coexist under the same roof. Sometimes,” she says with a short laugh, “those two things don’t exactly run hand in hand. Or parallel, even.”

Thor frowns. He picks up another fry and pops it into his mouth. This time, though, he chews _and swallows_ before responding. “But my regular guy says anything that’s bad for the individual is bad for the relationship.”

At that, Sif snorts. “I’m sure that’s true, Thor… but let’s be realistic here. How many of the things your family person is asking you to do are really _bad for you as an individual?_ ” She raises her eyebrows. “Giving up drinking milk straight from the carton? Oh, or putting the cap back on the toothpaste?” She snorts again. “I bet if you’re honest with yourself, nearly all of it is just about _winning._ ”

He knows he’s sulking, he does, but it would be nice if _someone_ took his side for a change. Which, of course, he can’t point out because doing so would only prove exactly what she’s saying. “It just feels like I’m being able to make all the real changes,” he huffs, “whereas Loki is only being asked to keep his snippy mouth shut.”

She laughs, but then her eyes narrow. “If you think about it, Thor, that _snippy mouth_ is Loki’s number one defensive weapon. Not to mention his number one _offensive_ one,” she concedes, shrugging with both hands out. “So being asked to be, what, a little less difficult? That’s probably really, really not easy for him.”

Actually, he hadn’t looked at it that way. She’s probably right. Still, the whole thing doesn’t feel fair. “I just wish for once in Loki’s life someone would tell him _it’s time for you to do it Thor’s way_ ,” he grouses.

With one eyebrow cocked like that, Sif’s face bears an uncanny resemblance to his brother’s. “But sweetie,” she deadpans, “no one _needs_ to tell him that; you’re far too busy telling him yourself.”

As guilty as he feels, she’s probably all too right about _that_ as well. Thor gives it one last try: “He gets an awful lot of concessions, though, just because he’s _sick in the head._ ” It sounds petulant and obnoxious and he knows it, but he’s not going to take it back anyway. He just isn’t, and no one is going to make him.

So there.

Rather than chastising him, though, Sif just smiles sadly. “If you could, would _you_ make the trade?”

Okay, no, put that way… “You know how to take the fun out of anything, don’t you,” he accuses, but she’s right yet again and he feels pretty damned guilty. “I’ve been job hunting out your new way, you know,” he adds, trying to take the conversation somewhere more positive. “I figure my degree will get me a corporate job, in legal or sourcing or something, without my actually having to sit the bar out there.”

“So you’re seriously going to stop lawyering, are you?” Sif still looks a little surprised by the idea, even though he’s been talking about this on and off for a month now. “I guess I wasn’t sure you really meant it.”

Thor takes a deep breath, holds it for about a count of ten, then lets it out slowly… just the way his therapist has made him practice doing. “Can I tell you a secret? A really important secret no one else can ever know?”

She snickers. “I already know you’re bagging your borderline-ward-of-the-state brother, Thor. How much more important can a secret get? But, yes, of course you can,” she finishes when he doesn’t laugh with her.

“I want Loki to be able to work once he’s done with treatment. If he wants to, I mean.” He swallows; he can’t think about any of this without getting all emotional. “And I don’t want this whole business – the whole fear of being found out – to hang over our heads forever.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “You mean the _Loki Odinson is dead_ thing? That business?”

Yes, that business. He nods. “I’ve been speaking with an old law school friend who works mostly on the criminal defense end of things and she thinks – if I take the fall for getting Loki out of jail; if I frame the story as though I was acting as his attorney and I gave him inappropriate and ultimately illegal advice – and I keep the whole thing really quiet, we can get it all settled without him having to go back to jail.”

She frowns more deeply. “But where does that leave you, though?”

“Don’t worry,” he assures her with a smile. “I’m not going to sneak off to jail and leave you with a 180-pound, sarcastic present. But I will have to surrender my law license, and I probably won’t ever be in a position to have it reinstated. Not as long as my father is still in office, at any rate.”

“And someone that evil is bound to live forever,” Sif agrees with a quick little smile that fades before it really gets started. “That’s a big sacrifice.”

Well, yes and no. Thor shrugs. “It’s not like I’m deeply in love with the job to start with… and I- whatever else happens, I can’t put Loki back in jail.” He can’t – it would be an awful setback, and probably a huge breach of trust from his brother’s perspective. It’s just not something he can live with.

Sif nods. “Yeah, I can see that. You’ve both invested an awfully large amount of yourselves in putting that chapter of Loki’s life behind you. Well,” she adds, brightening, “I’m glad to hear you’re looking for something else, then.”

He takes another deep breath. “You’re sure you don’t mind us following you out there?” The past is the past and all that, but having your ex-boyfriend and _the crazy brother he’s dating_ tag along behind you has to take at least a little of the shine off of _making a fresh start._

This time she laughs for real. “Of course I don’t mind, you big idiot,” she assures him. “It was my idea, remember?”

He laughs with her, finally, and it feels good. “You just love me for my cute brother.”

“Oh, right. The fact he’s dating my ex does nothing to tarnish his appeal,” she says with a big smirk.

“And that’s worse than the fact he’s crazy?”

“Oh,” she teases, “I kind of think those are all one and the same, don’t you?”

~

Loki comes home from group a good bit earlier than usual, jacked and twitchy and wound all the way up to the fucking ceiling. Thor can’t help going there; his first thought is _drugs_. But his brother has never really favored anything that does _this_ to a person. That, combined with the way Loki _doesn’t_ make any attempt to avoid him – to dodge eye contact, to sneak right into the bathroom or bedroom – makes him pick watching and waiting over accusing. The last thing he needs to do tonight is manufacture a problem that isn’t there already.

Thor tries to stand by quietly, but he can really only take so much. “What is it, baby,” he finally asks quietly, leaning on the counter next to the stove as Loki paces (and paces and paces) the kitchen. _You’re scaring me,_ he wants to add, but he goes with “You seem stressed about something,” instead.

He may not like family counseling but he’s at least trying his damnedest to let it teach him something.

“You won’t yell?” Loki looks genuinely afraid, not mocking or combative, and that in itself is a little frightening.

“I’ll do my best not to,” Thor assures his brother. He’s trying hard to be done with making promises he can’t quite keep; although he has absolutely no intention whatsoever of getting into an argument tonight, he’s managed to amply (and repeatedly) illustrate just how quickly _intentions_ can materialize out of nowhere. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Loki’s face scrunches up. “One of the guys in my group… well, he relapsed, I guess you would call it,” he explains, still pacing lap after lap around the kitchen island. “He missed day treatment today and then showed up to group high. The center manager had to call an ambulance. And the police came. I stayed safely away from everyone this time,” he hastens to clarify, “so don’t worry; I didn’t put Odin on my scent. And nobody died.”

Both of those things, in different ways, come as a relief. Thor lets out the breath he’s been mostly holding. “But are you okay,” he asks carefully. He knows the answer – it’s right out there in plain sight – but he wants to give Loki a chance to weigh in just the same.

“No,” his brother responds without so much as a moment’s hesitation. “I’m fucking terrified. How long is this shit going to hang over my head? How long do I have to worry that it’s coming for me, before I get to lead a normal life again?”

 _Forever,_ Thor thinks, _and it’s not like you would know a normal life if it bit you in the ass anyway,_ but his brother is crying now, stopped in front of him with hands clenched and chest heaving, and saying something like that just- well, it just wouldn’t be helpful. So he keeps it to himself. This just isn’t the time. “I’m sorry,” he offers softly instead. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” Loki rasps. They look each other in the eye for a bit, neither of them speaking, Loki’s wet breathing echoing a little off all the hard-surfaced appliances and tile. After perhaps two minutes – it feels a lot longer - his brother breaks eye contact, shakes his head violently, and stares down at the floor. “I- I just need to forget for a little while,” he corrects himself, voice barely more than a raw whisper.

Thor swallows hard. “I can’t hit you anymore, brother, if that’s what you’re asking.” He can’t. No matter the situation, he simply cannot let himself cross that line.

Loki nods, still studying the floor between them. “I know,” he acknowledges quietly. When he looks back up, the expression on his face is very strange. “Do you think you can cuff me up and fuck the living shit out of me, though?” He licks his lips. “Do you still have _that_ in you?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor tries to help make it better.

"You want to do it _here?_ " His voice breaks a little at the end of the question; so much for not coming across as nervous. Thor wipes his sweaty palms on the closest dishtowel and tries again. "You're sure? You don't want to move to the bedroom?" The lights are mostly off - just a few under-cabinet bulbs, dimmed to pretty much the lowest setting, break up the deep twilight - but even in this light the kitchen is hardly romantic.

Then again, Loki is not looking for _romantic_ just now. That much is quite clear.

His brother smirks. Loki's face is pale, all sharp angles in the dim yellow light, and something in his expression glitters dangerously. "It's easier to clean up in here, don't you think," he asks, turning to test his weight against edge of the kitchen island.

That's undoubtedly true - the kitchen was renovated a few years ago, shortly before Thor moved in, and is a just-slightly-dated mix of rich cherry cabinetry and industrial stainless/tile; you can take a hose to most of it when really necessary, as long as you watch your spray angle at the cabinet doors - but Thor is planning on sex, not a slaughter.

"Not helping, Loki," he points out. He tries his hardest to banish the image - blood everywhere - from his mind but it's a job for brain bleach and he's far, far too tense to muster any. He sucks a deep, whistling breath in through his nose and closes half the distance between them.

"Ah-ah," Loki chides, spinning to face him again with both palms quickly up and out. "The cuffs?"

_Oh, right._ This is already spiraling out of control and it hasn't even gotten started. "Seriously," he asks, "you want me to tie you up and- and _fuck_ you in the _kitchen?_ " Thor is feeling a little short of breath now. That, and - to his singular embarrassment - more than a little turned on. It's probably convenient given the circumstances but, just this once, he wishes his body had a little more- tact? Self-control? Something like that.

"Yes, actually," Loki counters. "Is that a problem?"

Thor looks his brother up and down, watching the play of light over the small muscles in Loki's forearms. "No," he says quietly, against what feels an awful lot like his own better judgment. "It's not a problem. Give me a minute to go get the cuffs, then. Oh, and Loki," he adds over his shoulder as he starts for the bedroom, "be naked when I get back."

"Or," Loki challenges, half-laughing and half-deadly.

"Or I'll take the kitchen shears to your clothes," Thor promises. "Don't test me. If you want to wear what you have on" - he gives his brother another slow down-and-up-and-down-again look - "ever again, it had better all be off when I come back in here." With that, he marches smartly off down the hall before Loki can spot how badly he's trembling.

~

This would be easier with a beer. Or a scotch.

Or an entire pitcher of Long Island Iced Tea.

Okay, maybe not the entire pitcher.

~

The soft leather cuffs spend their downtime in a box under Loki's side of the bed. Thor normally (as in _always_ ) stays out of it; it's not like he's been expressly banned or anything, but it feels a little too personal.

That, and he's more than a little afraid of what he might find.

Pretty much everything about the whole business, when you get right down to it, makes Thor mighty fucking uncomfortable.

He digs past a couple of metal plugs - of course, the stupid cuffs have to be all the way at the bottom, which kind of makes him wonder when Loki finds the time (and privacy) to play with so much of this stuff to begin with - and a bottle of _mint-flavored_ lube (which actually sounds vaguely appealing, so he shoves it in his pocket) before finally spotting his quarry.

One of the cuffs is caught under a black and tan contraption with dials and cords. Thor shifts the thing carefully, making a mental note to ask about it at- at a safer time, and finally manages to grab what he came here for.

He’s no expert at this sort of thing, not by any means, but even Thor knows the cuffs aren’t much use on their own.

He thinks briefly about the kitchen itself - about how he doesn't exactly want his counters to scream _chain marks!_ to anyone who might visit (or evaluate the return of his security deposit once he and Loki move out) - and skips past the usual shiny metal links in favor of something softer. There isn’t any rope, so he selects a good solid handful of (strong - he pulls at them experimentally, again and again, knowing full well he's bordering on stalling now - ) leather straps instead.

And then he rearranges things a little so the box will slide back under the bed frame – a hard paddle, a leather one with soft fur on one side, some metal clips and clamps and small weights he’d really rather not even try to identify – _Jesus, Loki._

_Okay, enough poking around._ He's been in here too long already.

~

Loki is standing – feet spread wide, arms loosely folded across his chest - stark naked with his back to the island. He's not smiling; his chin is up and there's a muscle twitching in his jaw. His clothes are nearly folded over by the sink, which is so quintessentially _Loki_ that Thor has to stifle a nervous laugh.

"Sorry," he offers, reflexively. "It took me a while to find these." He holds up a handful of leather goods, straps dangling. "You have quite a collection of- of things in there."

"Life gets boring," Loki says, looking from Thor's face to the cuffs and back again. "I need more."

_Alrighty, then._ "So, tell me what it is you want," Thor suggests, stepping closer and reaching his free hand out to stroke the side of his brother's face.

Loki jerks away. "Not your sympathy, brother, and not your _kindness_ either."

Well. Thor, moving quickly, steps in. He catches his brother high up under the jaw and backs Loki hard up against the island. "And what _do_ you want," he asks again, squeezing hard enough get Loki's attention but not venturing anywhere close to the point of potential damage. Just the same, he can feel his brother's pulse racing under his fingers. Thor leans close, nose to nose. "What," he hisses.

Loki swallows, larynx bobbing against Thor's palm, and twists just enough to look away. "I _need_ to get out of my head," he rasps. "I need to feel instead of thinking. I need to forget." He swallows again, then gulps in a big mouthful of air. "I need to _forget_ , brother. Except," he shifts to look back at Thor, expression distainful but eyes tearing up again, "apparently you _can't_."

At that Thor does laugh, although he's an entirely different kind of nervous now. "I think there's a fair bit of leeway between here," he half-tells, half-taunts his brother, digging thumb and fingers in fractionally harder, "and laying you out with a broken jaw. Don't you?"

"I'm not sure," Loki says, face contorting like talking isn't quite so easy now. "Not with you."

_Neither am I,_ Thor thinks, bravely - or stupidly – opting to say "but that’s the point, isn’t it?” instead. When his brother does not answer, Thor pushes a little: “Do you want to chance it," he asks. “I won’t go on if you don’t.”

"That's an idiotic question," Loki growls. Which is of course not unexpected, but it stings anyway; Thor's question had been an honest one. He really is just trying to be nice, and it’s hard just now to have _nice_ be so unwelcome. Hard enough, actually, that he can feel the first warning spikes of his flaring temper.

"Fair enough,” he counters, even though it isn’t. “But that? That's a coward’s reply," he informs his stubborn brother, “and don’t pretend you don’t know it. Answer me for real,” he threatens, “or so help me you'll get nothing and like it."

Loki twists free (and Thor lets him). "Fine," he snaps. "I trust you not to really hurt me but I hope you actually do." His eyes narrow. "Is that fucked-up enough for you? I _need to hurt,_ brother." He darts up a hand to wipe his face, quick and angry. “Can’t you understand that? Can’t you?”

There's a desperate plea under all that drama, and it tugs at Thor. He takes a half-step back, giving his brother just enough room to move. "Fine. Turn around. _Now_ ," he barks when Loki hesitates.

The change in tone works wonders; his brother scrambles to face the island, striking one hip against the counter's edge in the process and exhaling in a sharp hiss.

Thor opts to ignore it. "Hands behind your back," he demands, setting the leather straps and cuffs on the island next to his brother in order to regain the free use of both of his own hands. He hasn't tried this before, but he's seen it done often enough; he can wing it. "Take hold of your opposite elbows," he tells Loki, with just a little less _command_ in his voice this time.

His brother's breath hitches.

Both hands come up, just as instructed.

Trying very, very hard not to picture exactly where and how Loki came by this particular bit of experience, Thor uses a couple of the leather straps to fix both slender forearms together.

It’s sloppy work, he’s sure, but it gets the job done. “On the floor, on your back,” he instructs. “Was that not clear,” he asks nastily as Loki freezes. “On. The. Floor.”

~

It’s full dark now, out the kitchen window.

Thor’s _done._

His whole face hurts; his jaw, especially, is nothing more than a fierce, burning ache thanks to a good hour spent (endlessly) biting bruising crescents into his brother’s pale flesh.

Loki – mouth open, breath coming in harsh pants, face and body sticky with sweat and tears - is far, far too hoarse to keep on screaming.

Not for the first time Thor is very, very grateful for absentee neighbors.

Enough is enough, and then some. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he warns his brother, “whether you like it or not, and then I’m going to fuck you right here on the tile.”

And with that he kneels up between Loki’s legs. He leans forward and down, one slender ankle caught firmly in each hand, and uses his not-insignificant weight to bend his brother’s lanky body all but double.

Thor pauses. Even as flexible as Loki is, this still has to be an awkward, uncomfortable stretch… especially against the unyielding floor.

And sure enough, Loki whines high in his throat; by now he’s barely able to force out any sound at all. But he makes no attempt to struggle, none at all, and his searching mouth matches the rough force of Thor’s kiss eagerly. If anything, Loki is still pushing for more.

_Maybe I can make a workable go of this after all,_ Thor thinks, bracing Loki’s foot against his shoulder as reaches down to fumble awkwardly with his own fly.


End file.
